Clarence.

Clarence is now about 5 and 1/2 months old. To describe his wonderfulness would take pages and pages. Let's just say that he's as close to perfection as kitties come. He's very hard to photograph. Looks like an ad for Nivea doesn't it?

Color even in the dead of winter. A reliable Christmas cactus and assorted African violets.

Not literally, but close.

From a recent issue of The New Yorker. Artist: Zach Kanin.

I Hate Leaf Blowers.

I've complained before, mildly, about leaf blowers. Well the days of mild complaints have long ended and now I'm an obnoxious, opinionated, out-spoken enemy of these horrible devices.

I will make begrudging allowances for people who have to clear away vast expanses of lawn in public places. The Mall in DC comes to mind. They probably don't have that many leaves but I grant that it's possibly quicker to use blowers in those settings. And the young strapping men usually hired to do such work like to play with them, just as they like to play with guns and other phallic-like items, so they probably do a better job than they would with rakes.

And there are some older people who believe they are being gentler to their bodies by using leaf blowers, so go ahead if you must. Frankly I'm not convinced that it's any more gentle to lug around an electric blower than to brandish a rake but I have no evidence that I'm right.

But for most homeowners or business owners I say get rid of those evil devices and pick up a rake or broom (or hire someone to do that).

I hate leaf blowers because they are:
1. Noisy. Painfully so.
2. Messy. All the leaf mold spores and dust and bits of leaves that get tossed up into the air we breath can NOT be good for us. Not to mention the chemicals that the homeowner may have applied to their lawn. Another thing I hate. Lawn chemicals.
3. Time-consuming. I am positive that it doesn't save any time to use a leaf blower, especially if you live, as I do, some place where you have to dispose of your own leaves. Your options are bagging them up for the trash/recycling crews to pick up or composting them, which is what we do. And is of course what I think everyone should do. Because it takes absolutely no time to maintain; pile up the leaves and walk away. That's it. (Man, I've got at least three rants I could include in this one but I won't.)
4. Resource-wasting. Obvious. They use gasoline or electricity. Boo-hiss.
5. Polluting. The devices themselves must be recycled when they inevitably break down or burn up (which just happened to my neighbor and is why I sat down right now to write this pent-up rant). So what happens when they are discarded? They end up on the coast of some poor nation -- India, Brazil, Ghana -- where children sift through trash piles of hazardous materials.

So there it is. I'm sorry if I've offended anyone. I don't really want to make anyone feel guilty. Truly. But since I can't say all of this to my neighbors -- I have said much of it, and yet they still speak to me! -- I felt the need to lay it all out there.

And I think I violated only one of the Thanksgiving rules I posted earlier today. Rule 2: Speak without accusing.

Image from here. A blog I'll have to check out later.

Thanksgiving is a good time to make changes. I found this in my inbox today so here's my new creed.

1. Listen without interrupting
2. Speak without accusing
3. Give without sparing
4. Answer without arguing
5. Share without pretending
6. Enjoy without complaint
7. Trust without wavering
8. Forgive without punishing
9. Promise without forgetting

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Perplexing bumper stickers seen in Maryland.

I recognize Don Quixote in the lower right and possibly a cross in the upper left but what does all of this mean?? Random images or a single coherent message?

Surprising story about mozzarella.

I like the opening paragraph to this very interesting article.

Buffalo mozzarella is the Great White Whale of American cheesemaking: a dream so exotic and powerful that it drives otherwise sensible people into ruinous monomaniacal quests. Despite all the recent triumphs of our country’s foodie movement (heirloom-turkey-sausage saffron Popsicles; cardamom paprika mayonnaise foam), no one in the United States has, as of yet, figured out how to recreate precisely this relatively simple Old World delicacy — a food with essentially one ingredient (buffalo milk) that is made every day in Italy. Over the last 15 years, in fact, the attempt to make authentic buffalo mozzarella — to nail both its taste and texture — has destroyed businesses from Vermont to Los Angeles. It seems truly doomed. “A Polar wind blows through it,” Melville might have written about it, if he had been a food writer, “and birds of prey hover over it.”

The photo is by Peter Bohler, and I hope he doesn't mind that I posted it here. I believe that "fair use" applies to a one-time use on a barely read blog. 

The Red Elephant up the street re-appears. And now I know it's a political statement.

I've been keeping my eye on, and posting pictures of, this interesting little house for years. Here, here, and here.

Best tweet ever!

@GarryShandling - If you're head of the CIA and can't hide an extramarital affair it means it can't be done. Case closed, fellas.

Kitten playing, displaying his amazing nervous system. Adult Lady Cat tolerating.

A fried green tomato. We had our first true frost last night so I picked the few that remained.

Sweet Georgette definitely tolerates, and sometimes enjoys, Clarence.

Clarence in charge.

King of the Media Whores. [And The Prez's next-day retort.]

This guy is living proof that you can be an idiot and still make a lot of dough.

And Gloria Allred isn't much better (but at least she's rooting for the right guy).

Update 10/25:  Obama has some great writers. Here's what he said to Jay Leno when asked about the Trump challenge:

“You know, this all dates back to when we were growing up together in Kenya. We had constant run-in on the soccer field, and he wasn’t very good at it. When we finally moved to America, I thought it would be over.”

Photo from politico.com.

Matt Taibbi writing in Rolling Stone. I agree.

What we Americans go through to pick a president is not only crazy and unnecessary but genuinely abusive. Hundreds of millions of dollars are spent in a craven, cynical effort to stir up hatred and anger on both sides. ...a process that involves two years of relentless, suffocating mind-warfare, an onslaught of toxic media messaging directed at liberals, conservatives and everyone in between....

In every race there are now not two but three dominating figures – the Democrat, the Republican and The Process, and we're raising whole generations who hate The Process far more than they like either of the candidates. Mainly for grim commercial reasons, we in the media manipulate people to stay wired on hate and panic-focused on the race for every waking moment....

Most of us suck so badly at our jobs, and are so uninterested in delving into any polysyllabic subject, that we would literally have to put down our shovels and go home if we didn't have poll numbers we can use to terrify our audiences. ...

Full article here.

Illustration: Victor Juhasz

I'm a keeper of notebooks, miscellaneous notes, and other useless paper products. Can you guess what this is? It's from 1984.

A neighbor's garden.

I like to poke around other people's gardens and this one was extra special.  I went with my friend Susan, and after we roamed around the White House gardens a bit we strolled through some other gardens on the Mall and passed by this sculpture. So many people, children especially, must see this and and say "what's that?" Only the old know!

The White House beehive is bolted down like that to protect it from the helicopter winds. We were there just after 9 AM -- I think -- and I was so conscious that the four Obama ladies were possibly at home that it was a bit distracting. I knew that Mr. O was in Williamsburg prepping for his next debate in two days. (Good prep, I'd say.) Anyway, I kept looking up at the windows and wondering what it would feel like to have hoards of strangers roaming around my front yard at 9 AM on a Sunday morning, taking pictures of my bedroom windows, speculating on who was awake and who was still asleep.

Clarence is in the house! 12 weeks old. Lucy is adapting. Slowly.

What's this? It was growing all alone in a small garden outside my local library. [9/26: Susan&Kat are right: Colchicum autumnale AKA naked lady crocus]

Pig saves goat. Sweet. (But probably staged. But so what?)

Beach reading 2012.

August 22 or 23 at Sussex Shores in North Bethany Beach.

Why so few people, you ask?

We rented the house that you can just barely see the top of -- behind the red kayak. I didn't realize it was on a private beach. Not sure how I felt about that. A little too 1% for me (but we did agree that it was wonderful to hear and see the ocean from the house, and to have immense privacy on the beach...should I feel guilty about that?).

Here are some mini-reviews of books I read at the beach.

The Fabulist (Stephen Glass): A journalist who, in real life, fabricates dozens of news stories for The New Republic magazine, and gets caught and fired, writes a "novel" about his downfall but never explains why he did it. Disappointing and embarrassing.

Hotel at the Corner of Bitter and Sweet (Jamie Ford): Story set in Seattle, with chapters bouncing back and forth between 1942 and 1986, about Japanese and Chinese immigrants, with special focus on Japanese internment camps. Love story with a sweet, some might say too sweet, ending. Nicely written but has numerous errors -- like a character who in 1986 joins an online support group. 1986? I don't think so.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle (Shirley Jackson): Wonderful writing, quirky gothic story about a nutty family with lots of secrets. Loved it. But it took days to get the creepy feeling out of my head.

The Unfortunates (Laurie Graham): Light, slightly comic novel set mostly in New York between 1912 and the 1970s. Graham is a British writer whose novels are snicker-funny, clever, and weave history with fiction. I will read everything she writes.

The Edge of the Pier (Martha Grimes): I tried. I really tried. But the first 50 pages of this novel were among the worst 50 pages I've ever read in a novel. How did this woman sell so many books?? I was very excited when I learned that Ms. Grimes set five of her novels in a real city in western Maryland very near to where my mother grew up. So I ordered four of the books. Pee-yew! 

The Grace of Silence: A Memoir (Michele Norris): I borrowed this library book based on the title alone (I'm trying to be silently graceful these days, with mixed results). Book was wonderful but sometimes painful to read. The wounds caused by racism in this country are hard to face. We'd be a better society if everyone read this book.

Butterflies (and two caterpillars)!

I finally visited the annual Brookside Gardens Wings of Fancy butterfly exhibit. It's just down the road from me but I've never gone; today I went sort of by chance. It was very busy at this tiny and other-worldly exhibit, so I plan to go back mid-week when I can avoid so many 3-foot high people, who were adorable and enchanting in their own way but they made it hard to get good pictures. The butterflies land on you! A beautiful black and white butterfly friend followed me around the exhibit, landing on my shoulder or back from time to time. An attendant had to remove him or her manually before I left the room. I was wearing a shade of blue that may have been especially appealing. Next time I'll wear something bright pink or orange.

Can someone identify this flower? [Yes! I do believe that Jane nailed it: Torenia fournieri AKA wishbone flower. It looks so much like johnny-jump-up but there are subtle differences.]

I think it's a pretty common annual but I can't remember what it's called.

Not a political comment, just a fashion comment.

Those shoes! That belt! The whole package!  I'm drawn to and repelled by this picture in equal measure. Sarah is quite an amazing person in a way. She brings out such high emotions, both in those who agree with her and those who don't (that would include me). She's got something that I can't give a name to: not charisma exactly, not a high Q score exactly, but something that draws people to her. As long as she just stays behind a podium entertaining me I'm OK with her. Those shoes!

I wish my friend Paula hadn't posted this on Facebook.

You can probably figure out the question ("how many squares are in this diagram?") but do you know the answer. The Facebook guesses, of which there are currently 214,094, range from 27 to 90. I get a different number every time I try (usually in the 34-36 range) but I'm getting dizzy so I hope someone will know the answer and let me know.

Brain Hat! Gotta make one.

The pattern is here. It will cost you $5 but it's for a good cause, or so the author says and I choose to believe her. She says this:
Jan 31, 2011
I do not have any hats for sale. Unfortunately medical school takes up enough of my time that I am unable to make any hats for sale at this point. My best recommendation is to find a friend or family member that knits and bribe them with some delicious cookies.

The wormy looking things are called gyri and the grooves they create are called sulci (or fissures). Explained clearly here.

I hope to make a hat but we'll see. I follow through on about 25% of the projects I start. And I'm more or less OK on that. Better than 20%.

Note: Thanks to Natalie F. for sending me this link. It's good, no it's great, to have so many thoughtful friends from my years at NIH.

Another loss, but he made it to 86 so that's not bad. And we still have Cavett. I hope there's some kind of heaven so Vidal can see this headline.

I'm really getting weary of all these great writers dying lately -- Nora Ephron was one I failed to note on my blog. (Talk about a funny lady -- and a class act.) At least Ephron, Hitchens, and Vidal leave behind books to be read and re-read.

And for anyone who loves a good political confrontation check out Vidal vs Buckley discussing life as we knew it in August 1968 here. Please do not watch if you'll be offended by the words "queer" and "crypto-Nazi." In my opinion Vidal won the battle because he never really lost his cool and he didn't lunge out of his chair the way Buckley did.

Anyone know what kind of flower this is? It's growing in the park next door. [Nancy from WY ID'ed it as Gaillardia, or Firewheel (Gaillardia pulchella).]

Isn't it a great color? Speaking of color, Tanya from Suburban Jubilee, in Tasmania, posted this wonderful hue test, a very quick and fun way to see how well you can see differences in colors.  Go here to take the test. I won't brag just yet about how well I scored but I suspect I'll have to let it out eventually. For someone with old bad eyes I was pleased.

My grand-nephew Porky and my grand-niece Rosie.

Rosie and Porky are living a wonderful life up in Western Maryland. And I'm sure they'll make wonderful pork chops next winter. I'm very, very proud of my niece Sarah, her husband Kevin, and their three little adorable kidlets. They are living a real life, where they sometimes look their dinner in the face. That just seems ethically, mentally, ecologically, and morally healthy to me.

But I admit that it's much easier to watch someone else live this life than to live it myself. My fantasies of living a Willa Cather life can be played out by my niece while I watch from the comforts of my home. If I were 30 years old again maybe I would attempt such a life. Maybe. But not anywhere close to the Washington, DC, area.  I like my air conditioning too much.

Truth embedded in comedy.

At the Opening Ceremony to the Olympics in London.

I'm sort of reading this book (which my brain is not big enough to fully understand) and it made me buy this salad dressing. Which is delicious.

I've read a lot of Gary Taubes' writing over the years. His 2002 story for the NYT about how dietary fat may not be as bad as we're told by the experts, his 2007 NYT story on hormone replacement therapy and health advice in general, and his 2011 NYT story about how sugar is toxic. He writes clearly. He makes interesting and believable points. He cites scientific studies from reputable sources (New England J of Med, for example). But the total package of info is just baffling (to me).  I'll continue reading -- or skimming actually -- but it's very, very hard to believe he's right. His thoughts do, however, give me permission to ignore for yet another year my high-ish cholesterol readings.  It seems like everyone I know takes a statin for cholesterol. Which of course makes me dig in my heels and say "not me!" Thanks Dad for all this idiotic stubbornness.